


Strange Bedfellows

by The_Lionheart



Series: The Lot of Us Mortals [3]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Avoiding conflict, Children witnessing violence, Daken is a dick, Downplaying how serious a situation is, Everyone's under a lot of stress, Hallucinations, Hiding problems from friends and family, Hurt/Comfort, Jasper Sitwell's epic Youtube channel, Lucas doesn't know how to handle these feelings, Lucas is a dick too, Mood Whiplash, No Lucas that's not healthy, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-breakup sadness, Road Trips, Talking To Dead People, pietro is being a dick, so that happened, this will probably go down as the shittiest chapter in the entire series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lionheart/pseuds/The_Lionheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I know I left too much mess and destruction to come back again, and I caused nothing but trouble, I understand if you can't talk to me again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>~Dido, "White Flag"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lucas in Midgard

“Luka. Lukadaddy. Daddy,” Thora says, and Lucas stops and lets her down. Sweat is pouring off of him- the layers of clothing he needed just to function in Asgard are overpowering him in the desert sun- and Ikol swoops off to keep an eye on her as she does her business on a scrubby little plant. It's been thirty minutes of walking and Lucas doesn't think he can go much further. The sign that says Las Vegas is twelve miles away is still very close, which makes him sad and grumpy.

Lucas is pretty sure SHIELD is going to show up at the Bifrost site, if Thor and Tony don't get there first. He just... he just can't. Not right now. Later, maybe. Ikol misses Thor and Lucas wants Thora to meet her uncle and he's wanted Doc and Pete so badly that he's wept himself dry, but not right now.

“Come up, pup,” Lucas wheezes, and Ikol lands on a stone to give Lucas the stinkeye.

“Surely you jest,” he says flatly.

“I don't, and don't-” Lucas starts.

“I didn't call you Shirley, Lucas,” Ikol snaps. “Why are you running? You'll never get away from here before they come. Even if it takes them hours, you will still be in view!”

“Don't,” Lucas warns, and Ikol tosses his beak and says nothing else. Lucas has to try. He can't just wait in the sun to see if someone is going to swoop in to take him off to the next cage. Thora noses worriedly at Lucas's ankle, and he picks her up and ignores the burning in his lungs and hips and knees. In ten minutes a van passes by, going the other way. Lucas ignores it, the way he ignores every car. Ikol perks up when the van slows down near the place where they first landed and does a u-turn.

“Lucas,” Ikol warns, and the van is moving fast enough that he doesn't get a chance to say anyhting else before the van pulls up alongside them and stops, just off the road. A window rolls down, and a blast of the coldest air comes out. Lucas feels it from here.

“Shit,” Lucas hisses under his breath, but the man who looks over at them is a stranger, with thick brown hair tousled over his eyes and an improbable-looking jacket stretched over his broad shoulders. His eyes are dark and fierce and Lucas's grip on Thora tightens, just a bit.

“Get in,” the man says flatly. “You're going to help me.”

“That's okay, I'm okay, thanks anyway though,” Lucas says sharply, taking a step back. The man sighs and levels a gun at Lucas, and it looks extremely large and lethal.

“Before I lose my patience,” the man growls, and Lucas swallows dryly.

“Right, uh. Okay,” he says in a small voice, and Ikol lands on his shoulder and squeezes. “Don't hurt us. Please. Look, I don't have any, like, money, so-”

“Get in the fucking car, Loki,” the man snaps, and Lucas just wants to cry.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They are in Vegas, and the ride in the van has been one of the more ridiculous experiences of Lucas's life. Lucas is riding shotgun and Thora and Ikol are both on his lap, and neither of them has seemed this huge before being shoved into a car. Ikol is feigning apathy, while Thora has been growling nonstop.

“Hush, baby-boo,” Lucas whispers, and she huffs at him.

“No. Bad man,” she barks, and the man with the gun sighs heavily.

“Shut up, dog.” Lucas and Ikol both bristle at that.

“She's not a dog, she's a wolf,” Lucas tells him, scowling. “And she has a name, you know.”

“Would you look at all the fucks I give,” the man mutters to himself.

“Do you _have_ to curse?” Lucas snaps, and the man gives him a long, cold look.

“...do you know anything about the person you used to be?” Lucas blinks and Ikol presses his body against him, and it does actually help.

“I don't know that it matters,” Lucas says, after a moment. “I'm me right now, and I know there's no call to be a bad influence on a little kid or use that kind of language.”

“Luka? Daddy mad?” Thora asks quietly, and the man looks at her, too. Lucas thinks if this guy doesn't stop taking his eyes off the road he's going to scream.

“I'm not mad, puppy,” Lucas reassures, and the man returns his attention to the road.

“So why are we all jammed up here if you have a big ol' van?” Lucas asks, after a moment.

“Van's full,” the man answers, after a while.

“Why were you looking for me out in the desert?” Lucas asks suspiciously. “This was a sudden... thing. I didn't know I'd be coming back to Earth, much less to Las Vegas.”

“I was already in Vegas,” the man grunts. “A job. I finished the job just before you showed up, and my mission parameters changed to include bringing you in.”

“You don't work for Tony, do you?” Lucas asks quietly.

“Stark?” The man's eyes darken. “No.”

“The list of people who might be your boss has gotten pretty small with that statement,” Lucas says carefully, “and most of them are not people I'm friends with.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” the man states.

“I don't know if I like you,” Lucas says, after a moment.

“I'm not here to be liked,” the man responds. Lucas and Ikol exchange looks, but Lucas isn't that great at reading humanoid faces, much less bird faces.

“Are you going to kill me?” Lucas asks, and the man seems to think about it.

“Not that I know of. I might,” he admits, and Lucas bites his lip.

“Who do you work for?” he asks softly, and the man chuckles darkly and says nothing. Lucas curls his arms over Thora and tries not to over-think it.

They pass through Vegas, which is kind of disappointing, and drive for another hour before Thora starts whining.  
“Shut it up,” the man says quickly.

“She has to go peepee,” Lucas snaps back at him, and the man just sort of stares. After a few minutes, he pulls over at a roadside rest. There are vending machines and water fountains and bathrooms, and a dog walk area. Lucas lets Thora run around and tries to ignore the gun pointed at the center of his back.

“I have to go to the bathroom too,” Lucas says quietly, and the man groans.

“I'm not wiping your ass for you,” he says, and Lucas resists the urge to hit him with his cane.

“Then don't follow me in,” he says, instead of whopping the guy. “But we're going together because I don't want a snake or an eagle or a coyote to eat my family. So.”

The man glances at the bathroom, and shrugs. “Not like you have anywhere to run. Go for it.”

“What do we do?” Ikol asks, once they're locked away in a stall. Lucas covers his face with his hands.

“I don't know. I'm not willing to do anything that risks your or Thora's safety,” he whispers. Ikol sighs, but he doesn't argue, which is good.

The man comes in to the bathroom while Lucas is washing his hands. Lucas looks over at him, mildly concerned.

“Do you have to go? There's only one urinal but there's like three stalls,” he says helpfully.

“What the fuck is taking you so long?” the man demands.

“Luka what a tuck,” Thora yips, and Lucas glares at the man. A tiny half-smile starts trying to form on the man's face, before he schools it back into an expressionless mask.

“You don't need to dry your hands. Get back in the car.”

They're driving again, and the sun's starting to head closer to the horizon, when Lucas shifts his weight and peers into the rearview mirror on the door.

“Stop that,” the man says without looking over.

“Where are you taking us?” Lucas asks, sighing.

“Taking you back to my bosses. They think you might be useful,” the man says.

“I'm not the useful one,” Lucas says softly. “Doesn't anybody tell you anything? I'm just a guy with brain damage and a weird past that I don't even remember.”

“Not up to me to decide,” the man snaps.

“But when they decide I'm not useful, you're the one who's going to kill me,” Lucas accuses, looking out the window.

“In all likelihood,” the man grates out. “Although they'll probably find some use for the talking dog.”

“Your bosses know about Thora?” Lucas asks in the tiniest voice yet.

“No,” the man says, after a moment. “Not yet.” Lucas blinks at him, hugging his puppy close to his chest.

“There's no reason for you to tell them about her,” he pleads, and the man looks over. “She's just a baby. Please. You're some kind of assassin mercenary lackey with a big scary van who just follows whatever orders your bad-guy bosses give you. I don't want that for my daughter. _Please_.”

“Just stop,” the man orders.

It gets dark and the van rolls to a stop outside a motel in the middle of nowhere. Lucas looks blearily at the man, who sighs.

“We're spending a night here. You got a problem?”

“Nope,” Lucas mumbles, and after a few minutes of fumbling around the man sighs and comes around to help him out of the van.

There are two beds in the room. Even put together they'd be smaller than the bed Lucas shared with Tyr. Thinking about that makes Lucas feel horrible, and he curls up with Thora and lets Ikol perch nearby.

“Can we watch TV?” Lucas asks, and the man looks over at him while cleaning his guns, and says nothing. Lucas takes that as a 'yes.'

Thora and Ikol are mildly interested, but there's nothing Lucas feels like watching. He looks over, and the man is cleaning a different gun, and still not watching.

“What's your name?” he asks, and the man freezes up.

“It's...” He pauses, looking blankly at Lucas. “I don't remember.”

“You don't?” Lucas asks gently, and the man frowns.

“It's none of your business,” he snaps. Lucas looks down at his cane.

“I know it's not my business, but... you know, I know about that. About not remembering. And... eventually, you know, choosing myself.” The man scoffs, and Lucas tucks a blanket around a softly snoring Thora. “What do you call yourself?”

“I don't know,” the man mutters. Lucas feels intensely sorry for him.

“You know, when I first woke up, all I could remember was lines of prose from books I read. I didn't know my name or who I was or that I had a family,” he says cautiously.

“You didn't remember that you were a murderer and an asshole, either, though,” the man responds. Lucas frowns, meeting eyes with Ikol for a moment.

“Did... did you know the old me?” he asks, after a moment. The man blinks, then nods once.

“We met, briefly. You were contacting my bosses because they knew about this thing you wanted, I guess. I happened to be there.” Lucas watches him, stroking Ikol's feathers. “You were fucking crazy then, though.”

“Well,” Lucas says, looking down. “What would you like me to call you?”

“Nothing, Jesus,” the man sighs.

“How about Robert?” Lucas asks. “You could be a Robert.”

“Hell no,” the man frowns, wrinkling his nose. “Why Robert?”

“Like Spongebob,” Lucas grins. The man shakes his head slowly. “Well... how about... uhm, how about Howard?”

“ _Hell no_ ,” the man repeats. “What is with you?”

“John is too plain,” Lucas muses. “You don't look like a Gary. You don't really hit me as a Michael.”

“I'll hit you with my fist if you don't cut it out,” the man warns, but weakly.

“I already know two Stephens,” Lucas interrupts. The man stops, looking intently at Lucas. Lucas shrugs at him. “Do you know any Steves?”

“No,” the man says, but he sounds unsure.

“Well...” Lucas leans over in bed, gazing at the man. “I can't just call you 'that guy with the guns' in my head all the time.”

“I... I guess I knew a James once,” the man says, after a moment. “I wouldn't hate it if you called me that.”

“James,” Lucas repeats, and smiles. “That's a nice name. Jimmy?”

“ _James_ ,” the man growls, packing up his gun and unpacking another one. “Be quiet for eight hours. We're leaving in the morning.”

Lucas tries to lie down and shuts his eyes, only to find that he can't relax enough to sleep. He sighs and looks over at James, biting his lower lip.

“Are you going to murder us in my sleep?” he asks.

“No,” James tells him. Lucas looks at Ikol, who ruffles his feathers in a birdlike shrug. Lucas curls up around Thora and Ikol presses himself into the back of Lucas's neck, and it's not the worst. Lucas doesn't think he'll sleep, but around four in the morning he's startled awake, so that must have happened.

James is thrashing violently in his sleep, and Thora is whimpering a little.

“Shush, my love,” Lucas whispers to her. “He's having a bad dream, darling girl.”

“Want Pop,” she whines, and Lucas feels his eyes fill with hot tears.

“I know, baby. I want Pop too,” he whispers hoarsely, scrubbing at his eyes with the dubious motel bedsheets.

“Bad man not Pop,” she adds, putting her face in Lucas's shirt.

“He isn't,” Lucas agrees. “Honey, I'm gonna wake James up, okay? Stay still for me.” Lucas tucks the sheets around her and she burrows into them a bit. Unable to keep the smile completely off his face after that, he shambles to his feet and edges his way over to the other bed without his cane.

“James,” he hisses, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “James, wake up.”

Lucas puts a hand on one shoulder, and it feels wrong- smooth and hard, not like flesh at all. Lucas leans over to investigate, but James opens his eyes and grabs Lucas's shirt, just under the collar.

“Gee whiz,” Lucas exhales, but James is looking around the room in what is increasingly turning to panic. Lucas blinks, and gently puts his fingers around James's wrist. “Are you awake now? Are you with me?”

“Get away from me,” James hisses, his voice high and shallow. Lucas backs off immediately, his eyebrows crawling up into his hairline. “Don't touch me. I won't tell you anything.”

“Okay,” Lucas says, trying to make himself sound calmer than he really is. “Okay. It's okay. It's just me, right? I'm not going to hurt you.”

“He's dead,” James breathes out. “He's dead. How many years has it been? He's dead now.”

“Hey,” Lucas says, holding his hands up. “Hey, look at me. Do you know me? It's just Lucas. I used to be Loki. You picked me up in your van, remember? That was yesterday.”

James breathes hard for a moment, sitting himself up. This close, Lucas can see the tiniest glints of light off the metal surface of James's arm. It's got to be some kind of prosthetic.

Finally, James starts breathing normally.

“Are you going to be okay?” Lucas asks softly.

“No,” James grunts, running his hand over his face. “It's fine.”

“James?” Lucas asks. “I'm worried for you.” James groans and throws himself back into bed.

“Just go to sleep. We move out in a couple hours,” he grumbles, pulling the limp pillow over his head. Lucas frowns, before hobbling back over to his bed to be with Ikol and Thora.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When James pulls abruptly to the side of the road, Lucas is either convinced of his impending death or release. Neither happens.

“You had magic once,” James says, and Ikol looks hard at him.

“I don't anymore,” Lucas tells him, though, stroking Ikol's feathers. “It's gone, maybe forever.”

“Yeah,” James says, and he sounds distracted. “Look... this is going to sound crazy, but hear me out, okay?”

“Go ahead,” Lucas says, because he really does want to know what's got his captor so kerfluffled.

There are three stories that James tells him. One is of a boy who grows up in New York City and is taken from his friends and comrades and is tortured and experimented on until he turns into a monster. One is of a man who joins an army and volunteers to become that monster. One is of a monster who is made in a lab.

James looks at him, hoping for an answer, that Lucas knows which story is true.

“They might all be true,” Lucas suggests, and James scoffs. Lucas frowns, looking down at Thora.

“James, seriously. I have in my lap my adopted daughter, the talking wolf. Her father was a giant talking wolf. And his mother was a wolf that I apparently created out of magical energy and populated with my consciousness. And this entire story is nothing I remember, just something other people have told me and expect me to believe. _Trust me_ when I tell you that I know from intimate experience that multiple contradictory stories can be true at the same time, alright?”

“Alright,” James grudgingly admits. “So now what?”

“Do you want to get the Avengers involved?” Lucas asks quietly. “Look. They might be able to help you, and I can summon them here with a phone call. Is that what you want?”

“I don't want anyone involved,” James breathes out.

“Fair enough,” Lucas says, reaching over to give his flesh arm a pat. “I'm on a quest to find a helmet that will stop the outer-dimensional Lovecraft monsters from scooping out my brains while I sleep, James. My other goals include figuring out how to rescue my loved ones from my crazy abusive father and finding all the other kids I supposedly have had over the centuries. I'll happily add your issue to the list if you just please don't deliver me to your bosses.”

“You don't know who my bosses are,” James reminds him.

“I know they treat you like an attack dog with no name, and that you cried in your sleep last night. How much else is there to know?” Lucas reasons.

“They'll find me eventually,” James says softly. “They always do.”

“This time you won't care,” Lucas says firmly. “If you even suspect they're getting close to us, I'm calling Tony and Thor and they'll come rescue us. It'll be fine.”

“What if it's not fine?” James asks, and Lucas smiles and shrugs.

“Then it won't be fine, James. Don't sweat it til it happens.” James stares at him, eyes hard.

“I could always just put a bullet in your head and take you back to them. Say you ran and I had to follow you.”

“Ye-es, no, please not that one, that's a terrible idea,” Lucas says, still smiling. “Can I use a phone?”

“Are you going to use it to call the Avengers?” James demands.

“Yeah, but only because my big brother is an Avenger and they're my friends, and I want them to know I'm okay,” Lucas says.

“Too risky. They're likely to be in the area already,” James says dismissively. Lucas folds his arms, looking out the window for a moment before he has an idea.

“Can you steal me a phone? And then we can like, we can toss it onto a train or a truck or something and go in the opposite direction that it's going. And then they can track down the phone but it'll be all over the place, so they won't find you,” he suggests. James sighs.

“This is a fucking terrible idea. Okay,” he mutters.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There is just a hint of static when the phone rings.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end asks, and it takes Lucas a few seconds to find his voice. He pretends it's because he's walking, and not because this is too little, it's too cruel.

“Hey, Pete,” he chokes out. “I'm okay, just- yeah. Weird situation, I'll tell you later, I love you, though.”

“ _Lucas?!_ ” Peter's tinny little voice sounds like a shriek. “Oh my god, where are you? You're alive?!”

“I love you,” Lucas repeats. “Tell the others, too, I don't have time to call anyone else-”

“Why?! What's happening? Don't move, Lucas, don't go anywhere, we're coming to you-”

“Tell Thor none of it was ever his fault,” Lucas says, before handing the phone to James. James tosses it swiftly into the back of a pickup truck.

“Let's go,” James says flatly. They cross the street and head back to the van, where a worried Ikol and Thora are waiting. The van's already running, and in five minutes they're already two miles down the road in the other direction. In fifteen they've hit a long, empty stretch of highway.

In an hour Thora is asleep and Lucas can't stop himself from crying.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Tell me about gods,” James says, late into the night.

“My boyfriend was the god of war,” Lucas says immediately, then blushes. “He broke up with me.”

“Which one was that?” James asks, watching the road. It's all blackness, velvety and claustrophobic, except for the circle of white-gold from the headlights.

“Tyr,” Lucas whispers. “The one with one hand. We love each other but he broke up with me anyway. I guess he figured I'd be safer here without him.”

“That's rough,” James says, and Lucas shrugs a little.

“Tell me about gods,” he prompts, and James frowns out into the darkness.

“Cathedrals,” he murmurs. “Catholic in France and Italy, Orthodox in Russia and Greece. He always stopped in and went to Sunday Mass, unless it was raining bombs and gunfire. He still made a point of stopping in and sitting and praying for a while. I never believed in anything but the buildings, and in him.”

“He sounds like a good guy,” Lucas says, after a minute.

“The best,” James says fiercely. Lucas smiles faintly.

“Is this the same guy you said is dead by now?” he asks. James's face is stony after that.

Most of another day passes, and Lucas is sitting on another dingy double bed in an anonymous motel room while James cleans his guns on the other.

“Lucas,” James says suddenly. “You said you were looking for a helmet.”

“Yep,” Lucas yawns, one hand in Thora's fur, the other in Ikol's feathers. “Or eldritch horrors will violate my mind while I sleep.”

“You don't sound too worried,” James accuses. Lucas grimaces.

“Nah, I'm terrified. But I know where it is, sort of, so I'm just trying to figure out how I'll get it.”

“Where is it?” James inquires, and Lucas pulls a face.

“On Magneto. At the moment.”

James whistles.

“No kidding,” Lucas sighs.


	2. Need-To-Know

Lucas sees them on the news, and they're so beautiful he wants to cry. He sees them on the grainy, staticky motel room television, and he aches and wonders how he could have ever imagined being a part of that life. He sees them victorious, and he wishes he could be near them again.

He remembers Odin's voice, the father who sees and hears everything and anything, and he knows he was lied to, but he also knows Odin liked just as much to use cruel truths.

_You lied to him every day of your life, son._

Lucas watches Thor interact with the press.

_He laughed._

Lucas blinks, but the screen keeps blurring, even as Tony and a new lady, they're calling her Captain Marvel, fly down and land in front of the cameras.

_He lied to you from the first moment you opened your eyes._

Lucas turns the TV off and presses the heels of his palms into the sockets of his eyes and breathes slowly, every breath threatening to tear his chest open.

_There are always other monsters._

The door opens, and Lucas sits up suddenly, plastering a smile across his face.

“Hey, heroes,” he says, rubbing his hands. “What's this you've brought me?”

“Carl's Jr,” James says, tossing Lucas a bag. “Thora ate her chicken tenders on the way here.”

“Luka chicka,” Thora barks happily, bouncing into his lap. “Iko hafta fry.”

“What,” Lucas asks, and James shrugs.

“He said he had to fly. And he ate a few of her fries. It could go either way,” James offers. He shifts uncomfortably, prompting Lucas to look into the bag. “I didn't know what to get you, I just got you a burger.”

“A burger is always going to be a good option for a guy who can't use a fork,” Lucas smiles, and James looks a little pleased but embarrassed to be smiling. Lucas thinks it's kind of an endearing trait. Lucas eats his burger- he actually likes it a lot- and he lets Thora lick his fingers and face, and she tells him all about the world outside- the big loud moving things, and lots and lots of birds, and the little friends in the food place.

“What little friends?” Lucas asks, wincing even as he says it. James shoots him a small grin.

“There were cats in the parking lot,” he explains, and Lucas just about dies of cuteness.

James leaves again, and when he comes back he has clothes for Lucas- actual t-shirts and jeans that are too long in the leg for Lucas, and a black jacket that makes Lucas feel super cool, like the Fonz.

“I feel super cool like the Fonz,” Lucas makes a point of saying, and James rolls his eyes. Lucas experiments with rolling the legs up a little and eventually just goes back to mainly wearing his pants from Asgard, unless it's laundry day.

They go to Death Valley and Lucas hobbles into souvenir stands and buys a bunch of disposable cameras. They go to see the Pacific Ocean, but James doesn't let them stay too long because Lucas wants to call Tony's house in Malibu to talk to Jarvis, and it's too risky. They go to the redwood forests and it's Lucas's favorite, up until Thora cries and tries to hide from a hunting party that she only barely remembers now.

“Bad man,” Thora whines and cries into Lucas's neck, even when they're back in their latest roadside rest. “Bad man take Pop.”

“No, baby, no, no,” he cries with her, and he tries to sing a song to make her feel better, and all he can think of are the words to Hey Jude, and he mangles the words and the tune and everything about it.

“Here, let me,” James says, taking Thora gently into his arms and singing all of Over the Rainbow, and when he gives Lucas an uncertain smile Lucas makes sure to give him a small grin and a thumb's up. James sings Puttin' On the Ritz, and Lucas curls up and lets himself fall asleep.

Lucas does not remember his dreams, only that he wakes up in a panic with a stranger's hand on his shoulder.

“Need walk,” Lucas mumbles, brushing past James and out the door, leaning heavily on his cane. Ikol ruffles himself and comes with, and watches Lucas warily as he finds a place to sit in the dark.

“This is dangerous, Lucas. Come inside,” Ikol says gently, and Lucas shakes his head, not trusting himself to talk.

“What was it? Was it them?” Ikol asks, and Lucas grimaces.

“Nnngg,” he slurs a negative, and Ikol hops closer.

“What do you need?” Ikol asks, hopping up onto Lucas's shoulder. “Is it something I can get for you?”

Lucas shakes his head. Ikol is quiet for a moment.

“Is this about Thora? What happened in the forest?”

Lucas shrugs, then, hesitantly, nods.

“You didn't know that would happen,” Ikol tells him fiercely. “Neither is it your fault that her family was slaughtered in front of her, Lucas. You couldn't have done anything.”

Lucas puts his head in his hands and presses his lips together and sobs silently, and Ikol sighs and puts his head next to Lucas's ear.

“Thora is alright now, and time will help her,” Ikol promises, and Lucas sniffles and looks up at him, eyebrows raised. Ikol shifts a little bit on Lucas's shoulder, before fluttering down to the bench.

“Time will help her because _you_ will help her,” Ikol says firmly. “Even if it takes all of your lifetime to do so- that is the promise you made Fenris.”

Lucas nods, offering an arm, and Ikol hops onto Lucas's lap and lets him preen his feathers.

“You have been a better father than I ever was,” Ikol admits quietly, and Lucas kisses the top of his head.

They sit quietly together, and watch the sun rise.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Continental breakfast consists mostly of Belgian waffles James makes in the hotel lobby, and when Lucas stares blankly at the plate and forks James thinks for a moment, slathers one in a thick layer of cream cheese, and folds it over on itself.

“Waffle taco,” he explains, and Lucas gives him the ghost of a smile and eats it slowly. James puts some syrup on a plate, and Lucas dips the waffle in it, and it's really alright.

Lucas is feeling up to talking by the time he's halfway done, so he takes a sip of his juice and tries to figure out what he wants to say.

“You're being really understanding, for someone who was ready to kidnap and murder me a week ago,” he says softly, and James shrugs uncomfortably.

“I know what it's like,” he mutters. “To be in a place and have your brain go back to a bad time.”

“I think that's called PTSD,” Lucas whispers, and James looks down.

“And I know what it's like, to feel guilty about something until it eats your sleep,” he adds, and Lucas frowns.

“You seem like a good guy to me,” Lucas offers, and James taps a piece of bacon on the plate.

“The only thing I know for sure is that I kill people because other people tell me to,” he says, and Lucas reaches over and pats his hand.

“You'll never be as bad a person as I was, for sure,” Lucas says in an attempt to cheer him up. James raises an eyebrow, and Lucas shrugs. “Well? It's true, though. I killed people, I started a war for reasons that probably weren't very good, I-” Lucas frowns, hunching his shoulders and lowering his voice.

“I don't have a lot of memories, but I remember... I cut a guy'seye out, I think. That's kind of sick, you know? And I saw _video_ , James, I really hurt someone I care about a lot, really badly, I tried to kill him. I stabbed my brother and I basically did horrible things to him all my life and I was a liar, and...”

“Like what?” James asks, and Lucas blinks at him until James clarifies. “What horrible things did you do to your brother?”

“Well-” Lucas frowns, looking down. “I mean, I don't know, but they tell me.”

“They tell me things, too,” James says. “You're the one who says maybe I shouldn't believe everything I've been told.”

“Well, yes, but-” Lucas presses his lips together and eyeballs James. “Okay, I don't have an answer for that, but I know I've been bad. Even in memory I've been not-good and I'm not saying I deserved it all but I deserved _some_ , so-”

“Deserved what?” James interrupts, and Lucas shuts up and shrugs.

“Nothing,” he mutters, looking down. “Just, you know. It's whatever now.”

“I don't know what that means, 'whatever,' the way you use it,” James sighs, exasperated. “You ready to move on?”

“Yeah, I think we should,” Lucas agrees, taking the remains of his waffle taco with him. He doesn't know why he doesn't want to tell James about it- about being a shit son and being punished for that, about being a bad person and being punished for that. He doesn't want James to think Ikol's the person who did those things, even though James only knows that Ikol's some kind of talking magpie. He doesn't want James to know and he doesn't want James to disagree and say that no, he _did_ deserve it all. He thinks there's a possibility James would be right, if he did.

Lucas doesn't think James would treat him differently or- or take it on himself, do something Odin might do, but he doesn't know that he wouldn't, and he tries to be a little more careful for a day or two. He tries to be as agreeable as possible and he catches James giving him weird looks every so often, but James never acts on it and Lucas relaxes a little, and eventually James relaxes again, too.

The TV is better in the next motel, and James comes back from his shopping run with a twenty-dollar DVD player, and they plug it in and watch movies out of the bargain bin. It almost makes up for the fact that the only room available had a single queensized bed and a loveseat instead of two doubles.

Thora and Ikol are confused by Ferngully and both seem to enjoy Buster Keaton in Sherlock Holmes Jr. Thora is frightened of Twister, which Ikol really seems to like, and she recovers enough to show some interest in the first half of the first Harry Potter movie before falling asleep on Lucas.

“I'm good here,” Lucas whispers, when the movie's over. “You can take the bed.”

“You're the one with the fucked up back problems, you take the bed,” James counters.

“That's not really necessary,” Lucas insists, and James opens his mouth to argue, but Ikol makes a pretty loud noise shaking his wings out.

“Why don't you share the bed and stop fighting over it?” he asks grumpily, and Lucas feels bad for waking him up.

Lucas shifts Thora to the side and tucks a blanket around her, before hobbling over to the bed and sitting down on the edge. He toes off his shoes but stays mostly dressed otherwise as he lies down. He doesn't mean to flinch when James tumbles into his own half of the bed, but James sighs at him.

“I'm not going to hurt you, Lucas,” he says.

“You still might end up killing me, though, right?” Lucas asks, and James sighs again.

“Lucas, I promise, even if I kill you, it's not going to hurt when I do it.”

“That's really messed up,” Lucas points out, rolling onto his side to look at James. “Thank you.”

“I wouldn't _want_ to kill you,” James mutters, looking at the ceiling.

“I know,” Lucas says, and after a moment of staring he rolls back over onto his other side.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I have some bad news,” James says, a few days later.

“Go ahead,” Lucas says, looking up from the book he's been reading to Thora.

“As far as I can tell, with the sources I still have, Magneto's actually back in Nevada. So we're going to have to backtrack a bit,” James says, and Lucas shrugs.

“I figured as much. The guy who sent me said he'd drop me close to where Magneto is, and I think, that close to a big ol' city, we would have heard about it if Magneto had moved yet.”

“Why didn't you say anything?” James asks, frowning, and Lucas shrugs.

“I didn't want to rush into anything. Besides, the brain monsters are leaving me alone, I think they're still looking for me in Asgard.”

“And what are you going to do when they figure out you're here, jackass?” James snaps, and Lucas shrugs again, looking down.

“No yell Luka,” Thora barks, making as mean a face as possible at James. “No yell my Lukadaddy. Mine.”

“It's okay, puppy, don't be mad,” Lucas says soothingly, and Thora butts her head against Lucas's chest.

“Mine,” she repeats, and he sighs and cuddles with her and finishes reading the story.

Later, when she's asleep, James looks over from the never-ending task of caring for his weapons.

“We're going to Nevada in the morning,” he says flatly, and Lucas nods.

“I'm sorry I made you worry,” Lucas says quietly. “But, look, you don't _have_ to worry, alright? I slept in the same bed as Tyr for months after they found me and they _never_ bothered him, so-”

“Is that-” James starts yelling, and then he sort of stops and stares at Lucas for a moment. Lucas's heart is pounding, and he wonders if that's disgust. Maybe he shouldn't have exposed Tyr to that, Lucas thinks belatedly, and he ducks his head down.

“Sorry,” Lucas mumbles.

“S'fine,” James says softly. “Hey, listen.”

Lucas looks back up at him, and James is staring hard at him through his tousled mop of dark hair.

“Lucas, I'm really starting to think you're seriously fucked up,” James says, and Lucas shrugs uncomfortably.

“It is what it is,” he says, and James frowns and goes back to cleaning his guns.

Lucas wakes up in the night and James is curled around him, and he's shaking.

“Hey?” Lucas asks, craning his neck to get a look at his bedmate. When he sees James's face he actually rolls over, because James is weird and rough and some kind of assassin, but so is Clint, and Lucas thinks he and James are friends now, and James looks terrified. “Hey.”

“Red,” James whispers, and Lucas pats his face with one hand. “It's all red. I shot her, I loved her and I shot her.”

“Who?” Lucas asks, and James shudders and tucks himself closer.

“She's my red,” he says, and Lucas sighs and strokes James's hair until he calms down.

“This is going to be a really tiring trip,” Lucas predicts, “if we can't go two minutes without one or both or all of us having a mental breakdown.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ikol mutters sleepily from his perch on top of the couch.

“Heh, that could be a pun if you think about it,” Lucas grins, and Ikol sighs heavily and says nothing else.

The morning is a little awkward, because James really doesn't seem to be used to this kind of physical closeness. They leave and start heading back to Nevada, and James keeps stealing little worried glances at Lucas before Lucas sighs and flaps a hand at him.

“It's fine, we're fine. I'm fine if you're fine, James, because we're both mega fucked up,” he offers.

“Yeah, mega-tuck-up,” Thora barks, and Lucas buries his face in his sleeve while James gives up and laughs.

Before they leave California, Lucas tells James to pull over into a parking lot and has to take a few moments to breathe before he can talk.

“We can't go to Magneto,” he says finally, his chest squeezing in on itself. “We're not mutants and you have a metal arm and I have metal pins in my hips and knees and oh my god, James, what are we thinking?”

“We could ask nicely,” James suggests mildly, and Lucas wails. Thora noses up against him, concerned, and Lucas just shakes his head.

“We can't,” he breathes out, rubbing his eyes. “And why would he give me the thing _he_ needs? He won't, he won't. Oh god, James, let's just forget it. What's the worst that could happen?”

“You explicitly mentioned having your mind violated by Eldritch horrors,” James reminds him.

“Yeah, but is that really that horrible?” Lucas asks, and James gapes at him. “No, seriously. They didn't kill me, they didn't do any... any lasting damage, it was basically like a couple of nasty nightmares and I have those like constantly all the time anyways, right?”

“This seems like a terrible risk,” James points out. “You don't know what they can do, just what they have chosen to do.”

“No, but, I know, but listen,” Lucas pleads. “Let's just take this one step at a time? There's got to be some other way to handle this. I can survive nightmares, James, I can't survive having the plate in my head ripped right out, okay?”

“Okaaay,” James says, really slow like he doesn't mean it in the slightest. “And what would the next step be then, smart guy?”

“Can we just focus first on your problems, James?” Lucas demands. “Why are you so keen to go back to Nevada? Isn't that where your employers last sent you? So, you know, aren't they very likely to find you there?”

James opens his mouth, then shuts it.

“Shit, I dunno,” he admits, gazing off into the distance. “Well, what do you suggest?”

“South Dakota?” Lucas tries.

“Why South Dakota?” James asks, after a moment of thought.

“That's where Mount Rushmore is,” Lucas says. “I'm pretty sure. And I really want to go to Mount Rushmore.”

“And that helps us how?” James asks, squinting.

“It gets us away from the places where people are likely to be looking for us,” Lucas explains, “and it gives us time on the move to try to figure out what we're going to do to convince Magneto and the Brotherhood of Mutants to not kill us and to instead give us their precious item.”

“Fair point,” James concedes. “You want food before we go?”

“Wan' chicka,” Thora supplies helpfully, and James gives her a sunny grin, nodding a bit.

“Chicken it is. Let's go.” Lucas frowns at him a little, and he gives Lucas a too-innocent look. “What?”

“How did we go from talking about your problems to talking about my problems again?” Lucas asks slowly. James gives a rolling shrug.

“Look, we don't even know what my problem is,” he says reasonably.

“The heck?” Lucas asks, hands in the air. “James, you don't know your own name and you're on the run from your definitely-evil employers- which is a misnomer, alright, because I don't think they actually pay you _now do they_ \- so maybe your problem right now is you don't have your memories and you need a safe haven away from this shadowy organization? Maybe?”

“Well, that. Or maybe I'm just using you to get close to the next target I'm supposed to take out for them,” James says flatly.

“We can cross that bridge when we get there,” Lucas says, and James shoots him a tired smile.

They don't stop til late that night, and James falls into bed. Lucas goes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth, and ignores the shadows under his eyes.

He ignores the shadows on the walls, too. He knows they're not really moving. He knows that shadows don't have eyes.

“You're gonna get through this,” Lucas tells his reflection, and it takes him a minute to realize the blood gushing from his reflection's nose really is there on his face. Lucas sighs and washes it off, pinching his nose shut with some tissue paper, and when he's sure the bleeding's stopped he crawls into bed.

The room has two doubles, in this motel. Lucas looks over at James, but his head is pounding and he thinks it's pushing it to reach for something he doesn't need, so he climbs into his own bed and stares at the ceiling until the chittering stops.


	3. Lucas and the Brotherhood

Mount Rushmore is great- James and Lucas and Ikol and Thora have pizza and take pictures, and James lets Lucas buy a postcard and fill it out. Lucas pays a family five dollars to stick it in the mail on their way home, preferably before they get to their home state.

They're under the stars and Lucas is leaned up against James, a sleeping Thora in his lap, when he confesses that he doesn't think he's going to ever date anybody ever again.

“Why do you say that?” James asks, gazing skyward. Lucas sighs, and wonders who's watching them.

“Tyr loved me and it was real,” he says slowly, “but... you know, part of that is because he secret-loved me back when I was the old me.”

“So?” asks James, and Lucas shrugs.

“So why would anybody else? All a new person would see is the me I am now.”

“Lucas, that's-” James starts, frowning. “That doesn't sound healthy, at all.”

“Who's going to go out of their way for someone like me?” Lucas asks, and James awkwardly pats his back.

“You're a decent fella and you're decent-lookin', and you have a cute kid. You're like a triple threat of Things Dames Like. There's somebody out there for you.” Lucas smiles at him, and he smiles back.

“I think you're a decent guy and also good-looking too, James. But sorry, you can't have my cute kid,” he adds, and James laughs.

“No way, she's _your_ little princess.”

“Yes she is,” Lucas murmurs, cuddling her close. Later that night Lucas stays up thinking about Tyr anyway, and when he starts crying James climbs into his bed without saying anything and just tries to silently be there. Eventually they both get some sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It's calm and pleasant and it's a good place for running, nothing but grass for miles around. There are mountains in the distance, but so far away that Lucas thinks he'll never get close enough to see them. That's alright, though. It's warm where he is, and it smells nice.

“You've looked better,” someone says behind him, and it's a man, with black-brown hair and great big eyes that look like a very warm brownish color

_red it's all red what big eyes you have_

and he's wearing a soft-looking sweater and some jeans, and he's barefoot and smiling.

“Hello,” Lucas says suspiciously, looking around. He takes a step back and it doesn't hurt, and he realizes why nothing hurts. “Is this the astral journey-to-the-mind thing again?”

“Not precisely.” The man comes closer, and he's much taller than Lucas, but there's something familiar about him, too. “You're doing a wonderful job with her. Thank you for keeping your promise.”

“What?” Lucas asks, rubbing his forehead a little. “Look- this is very nice, yes, but this is how they found me last time, okay?”

“Who?” the man asks, frowning. Lucas shrugs, gesturing vaguely.

“The Cthulhu monsters. Those guys that give me the bad dreams and stuff. They said the astral plane stuff pointed me out to them, last time.” Lucas tries jumping up and down, and isn't super impressed with it.

“This is not the astral plane,” the man sighs, looking really angry for a moment. “This is... this is a stronger bond, and older one. Nothing can hurt you here.” The man comes closer, and Lucas frowns at him.

“Who are you?” he asks, and the man seems surprised.

“I... you don't know me by this face?” Lucas squints at it, then shakes his head.

“Are you late to the party? I don't have any memory from being, you know. Loki,” he says uncomfortably. The man seems taken aback, but he reaches over for a tentative hug anyway. Lucas isn't sure what to make of it.

“I can't bring you here too often, but I thought, after our last meeting, that you might need a reminder that you are doing a wonderful thing and that you have performed admirably,” the man tells him. Lucas feels himself smile back.

“Oh yeah? Was I a toolbag the last time you met me?” he asks, and the man grins.

“No, you... you were good. You were what I needed from you.” Lucas can't help but be pleased, even if he has no right to be.

“Why don't you come visit me in the awake-times?” he asks. “I'd be really happy to meet you in person.”

“I know,” the man says, and his smile is sad now. “And I would love to see you again, as well.”

“But?” Lucas asks, and the man pats him on the shoulder.

“But I'm dead, and this is all I can do.” His hand moves up, to the side of Lucas's neck, and squeezes lightly.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucas sits up and wheezes until James comes over and sits with him It's been a few days and they're in Nevada again, and Lucas is overwhelmed with a frantic need to check that Thora's alright. She protests sleepily and nuzzles against him, and the room is spinning until James puts hands on either side of Lucas's face and tells him to breathe.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and Lucas shudders. James considers that for a moment, patting Lucas's head. “I'm gonna take that as a no. You need some aspirin?”

“Nuh-uh,” he manages to say, and James nods.

“You nervous about Magneto?”

“Nuhhhh,” Lucas whimpers, then he stops to think that one over. “Yeh, kin'a.”

“Yeah, don't sweat it. Look, everything this guy's about is, you know, taking care of mutants and getting revenge on people who hurt mutants. Well you've never done that, have you?”

“No?” Lucas asks, and James beams at him for using the whole word.

“And neither have I. So we're good, we just gotta appeal to his better nature.” Lucas thinks that might not cover all their bases, but he assumes James has a sneaky assassin plan he's just not telling Lucas about.

“Dreamed,” Lucas tells him, and James raises an eyebrow. “A dead stranger loves me.”

“Well,” James says, after a moment. “That... you know, sometimes I have dreams like that, too.”

“Yeah?” Lucas asks, and James nods.

“Sometimes I dream about taking care of somebody,” he says, looking down. “And sometimes that person takes care of me.”

“We can,” Lucas says, swallowing dryly and forcing himself to make the words right. “Find him. We'll do it.”

“Yeah, thanks,” James says with a smile.

There's a problem when they get to Vegas- even though it's been two weeks since Lucas was sent through the Bifrost, there's still a “government presence” in the area. Lucas supposes Thor recognized the Bifrost energy or something. They turn on a TV and Thor's on the news, looking into the camera with redrimmed eyes.

“-you can hear this, please. Come home,” he begs, hands twisting around the handle of Mjolnir. “No one is angry with you, I prom-”

Lucas turns the TV off and doesn't want to talk about it, although when he can speak again he pulls Ikol into his arms and apologizes profusely.

“Why are you sorry?” Ikol asks gruffly, pecking lightly at Lucas through his shirt. “I'm not the one he was talking to.”

Later, much later, Lucas holds him close and kisses the top of his beak.

“When this is over,” he whispers. “When I can protect myself, and you. And we won't get trapped in the Tower like last time, I won't let them do that to you or Thora. Then we'll go and see him.”

“Thor values freedom,” Ikol says warily.

“Thor's a good brother,” Lucas says quickly, bowing his head. “But. Still. I don't want you guys trapped in a place, and I don't want to be trapped in a place, ever again.”

“He was crying,” Ikol reminds him.

“Dad cries,” Lucas snaps, then winces. “I'm sorry. That was harsh, I just-”

“No, I understand what you meant,” Ikol says quietly, and Lucas feels really bad and he isn't sure why. “But Thor is not like our Father. Not like that.”

“You are the one who remembers,” Lucas replies. “You remember why we plotted, why we schemed. You remember why I thought Thor couldn't be King yet. Do you really think Thor isn't going to be angry at me? For everything I did in Asgard? Do you think he isn't going to be mad at me about being here for so long and not telling him or talking to him, or about spending all this time with James? The _criminal assassin_ guy?”

Ikol is silent, and Lucas hunches his shoulders.

“All I'm saying is that I... I want to be able to leave when I have to, Ikol. I'm not going to let him hurt you or Thora, and I don't want to have to stick around when he gets mad at me,” Lucas mumbles. “I think I'll go banana-butt crazy for real if I get in another situation like with Dad, where I don't have anywhere to run to. I know that makes me a coward, I just...”

“No,” Ikol says softly. “It doesn't make you a coward, Lucas.”

“Ah,” Lucas says, because he doesn't believe Ikol.

“Lucas, tell me truly. Do you really believe Thor would do to you what Father did?” Ikol asks, and Lucas bites his lower lip.

“I think you should get some sleep, bro. You have a big day tomorrow.” Ikol fluffs himself and he and Lucas have some passive-aggressive moments in silence before Lucas hears Ikol settle down and go to sleep.

The plan is heavy on Ikol's involvement, but he's the one who volunteered. Ikol flies as close at he can to the Bifrost site, and then he flies upward, looking for anything “unusual.” It makes Lucas nervous for a minute or two, because what's Ikol going to know about things being unusual out here? But Ikol assures him that he's just looking for places hidden from normal view by magic or science, and that he knows enough about such things to determine what that will look like.

It makes Thora anxious to be without Ikol, and Lucas wishes he'd never sent Ikol out, and is pretty sure Ikol's being eaten alive by hawks and coyotes simultaneously.

Ikol comes back later in the afternoon, and they eat an early dinner with him before asking him what he found.

“I know where we should start looking for this mortal,” Ikol says, snugged up with a tired Thora. “We should go in the dark of night, tonight. If we wait til morning we'll surely be detected before we arrive, by his guards or by the ones who hunt us.”

“Hmm,” James says, and Lucas doesn't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

“Ikol, what did your elf eyes see?” Lucas asks, and Ikol gives him the dirtiest look a magpie can manage.

“Just because your televisions have shown me all of the original things that you quote incessantly at me does not mean I will start appreciating that you do so,” he says snippily, and Lucas huffs and leans back.

“It's not even been all of the original things, just you wait until we get somewhere that has Netflix,” Lucas mutters, and Ikol rolls his eyes so hard his entire head follows.

James goes out and buys a cellphone somewhere cheap, and Lucas programs Tony's number on speed-dial, just in case. Lucas packs up his bag- still loaded with most of the stuff he brought from Asgard, except for the sweets- and makes sure he puts Thora's little Thor sweater on, because it's supposed to be cold out tonight.

“Be good and be very quiet, lovey,” Lucas whispers to her on the way, and she yawns and butts her head against his chest.

Lucas and James don't really see what Ikol is trying to point out to them until they're past a certain point, and then a fenced-in area shimmers into view.

“Oh snap,” Lucas whispers, leaning heavily on his cane for a moment to adjust Thora's weight. “Anti-human invisi-shield? Nice.”

“Yes, very nice,” someone says, followed by a sudden burst of wind. Lucas is confused until he sees James tense and realizes there's a skinny blonde boy in front of them where there wasn't one before.

“Oh wow, you're like, super fast,” Lucas says, tucking Thora closer. Ikol squeezes down on James's shoulder, but it's the side with the metal arm, and he might not even feel it.

“No shit,” the boy says, puffing out his chest. “And I'm going to kill you super fast for trespassing, humans.”

“Aw jeez,” James mutters, looking at Lucas. “Look, we come in peace, alright? We just need to talk to your dad.”

“His dad?” Lucas asks, and the boy narrows his eyes.

“Yeah, no, that's not happening. Magneto doesn't have time to talk to a couple of baselines, so-”

“Magneto's your dad?” Lucas interrupts, eyes big. “Wow, really? Hey, yeah, I guess I see a resemblance, like if instead of being super-duper old he was like super-duper young, okay.”

“Stop helping,” James hisses at him. “Look, Maximoff, we're not here to start a fight. My friend here has something he has to talk to Magneto about.”

“I'm totally for mutant rights anyways,” Lucas says brightly. “I just want everyone to live happily in peace together and be friends.”

“Well that's just-” the boy starts, but there's a flash of pink and there's a, a _woman_ there suddenly, and Lucas feels his mouth go all dry and hot.

“What is taking you so long?” she asks, tossing her dark hair over one shoulder and looking over at Lucas and James. “Are they giving you trouble, Pietro dear?”

“We're just talking,” Lucas says, and Thora wrinkles her nose and yips sleepily at the woman.

“Wan' nap,” she barks, and the woman looks at Thora like she's the cutest thing in the world possibly ever. Lucas feels something in his chest tighten.

“She's really sleepy,” he says, grinning. “We just want to talk to Magneto, though, we don't want to do anything bad.”

“Oh yeah, like we have any reason to believe you,” scoffs the boy.

“Scout's honor,” James adds, eyeballing the woman. She's wearing a really tight outfit, okay, and Lucas wants to eyeball her, too, but she's looking at James like she kind of wants to eat him up. Lucas just looks down at her shoes, which are awesome, before hugging Thora closer.

“So can we go talk to Magneto now?” he asks, and the woman sighs.

“What do you think, Pietro? If they're assassins, they're pretty pathetic,” she points out.

“Yeah, what kind of assassins take their cute puppy baby in to assassinate people?” Lucas pipes up. “We'd be terrible parents if we did that.”

“You'd be a terrible parent,” James reminds him, grinning. “She's not _my_ kid.”

“It's a very interesting story how I'm her Daddy,” Lucas says earnestly, and the woman is already looking sorry to be here. “Thora's a very good girl, though.”

“Yes, I'm sure. Wanda, we should just kill them and put the talking dog in a shelter somewhere,” Pietro says.

“No, she needs love and attention,” Lucas cries, hugging her close. “If you kill me you have to raise her as your own daughter! She's not an animal, she's a person!”

“Well, what do you want to discuss with Magneto?” Wanda asks, moving closer. “Perhaps my brother and I can assist.”

“Your little brother is mean though,” Lucas whispers, hyper-aware of James's hand on his back and of Wanda's great big mane of glorious hair.

“He's not my _little_ brother, we're twins,” she says, smirking, and Lucas goggles at her in shock. He can tell James is doing it, too.

“What? But how is that even possible, he's like fifteen years old and oh my god, you're fifteen too if you're twins!” Lucas cries, horrified.

“We're twenty-one, asshole!” Pietro snaps at him.

“What, but how? I'm like twenty-three ish kind of,” Lucas says, baffled. Ikol jabs him with his beak, probably because it's technically an outrageous lie.

“Look, let's just take it easy,” James says, making eye contact with Wanda. He smiles at her and it's totally perfect, like Flynn Ryder, and it's totally not fair. “My friend here has a problem and it's something we think Magneto can help with.”

“And why would Magneto help him?” Wanda asks, and she's gorgeous and Lucas, for the first time maybe ever, really, really wishes he was someone else right now.

“Well, I used to be Loki,” he blurts out, “so maybe we can think of something.”

They stop- not just James and Wanda, but Pietro and even Ikol- and they look at him for a moment, before Pietro whizzes away from them.

“Well,” Wanda says after a moment. “Maybe we'll think of something, yes.”

“Lucas,” James hisses, on their way to the compound. “Why'd you-”

“It's like I said before,” Lucas hisses back. “Just me? Just Lucas? Nobody cares, nobody would go out of their way for me or to help me. But Loki's the one everybody wanted, Loki's the one anybody _ever_ wanted.” He wants to say more, but he thinks of that picture Odin showed him, himself standing next to Loki, and he's angry at himself for being the one he is.

“We are going to have a talk later,” Ikol promises, and Lucas winces a bit.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” he asks, and Ikol ruffles his feathers.

“I am so incredibly angry with you that I actually don't want to talk to you right now,” Ikol informs him. “Hence the _later_.”

“Oh. Got it,” Lucas mumbles.

“What are you going to do if he wants you to do something only Loki could have done?” James asks softly. “What if he doesn't believe that you used to be Loki?”

“I'm going to regret everything about tonight later, okay,” Lucas snaps, and Thora whimpers at him. “We didn't have to come for this, and now you guys are in danger because of this stupid- just- whatever, okay?” Lucas mutters, stroking Thora's fur.

“Again with this whatever, like it means something,” James grumbles.

It actually doesn't get better by the time they get to where Magneto is supposed to be, even though Lucas is utterly exhausted from all the walking and everyone's still mad at him, and he just wishes he could go somewhere to sleep and not wake up for a while.

And of course Magneto isn't even there yet, but Wanda and Pietro are there with a super hot punk-looking tattoo guy and a great big bulky guy and his great big less-bulky friend, as well as a super hot blue lady. Lucas is starting to feel incredibly depressed about being in this room full of hot people.

“Pietro,” Lucas whispers, because he's the closest. “Pssst. Hey, Pietro.”

“What?” Pietro hisses back.

“You ever think about what would happen if your dad fought Superman?” Lucas asks, and Pietro looks murderous.

“He would win, obviously,” he snarls. “He would use the gravitational fields of Earth to punch Superman out into space so hard and fast that his body would asphyxiate and freeze in seconds.”

“Nice,” Lucas whispers, edging closer. “But Superman can fly around in space without protection, so really that wouldn't be a problem, you know?”

“Then he would use the gravity of Earth to sink Superman down into the Earth's core and trap him there forever,” Pietro counters. “Even if it doesn't kill him, he can't get out, so it's still a win for Magneto.”

“Oh gosh, you've thought this through,” Lucas marvels, nodding. “Okay, what if your dad fought Green Lantern?”

“Which Green Lantern?” Pietro demands.

“All of them. The entire Corps,” Lucas says, and Pietro frowns.

“Why would my dad fight the entire Green Lantern Corps?” he asks.

“As horrible as this is for the rest of us to witness,” Hot Blue Mutant Lady interrupts, “is this really what you want Magneto to walk in on, Pietro?”

“Shut up,” Pietro mutters, and the guy mutants laugh. Lucas feels bad, looking over at James for confirmation that yeah, this wasn't the best thing to do right now.

“I'm sorry I got you in trouble with your cool hot friends over there,” he whispers. “But you should look me up if you ever want to continue this conversation.”

“I don't want to hear about how you think they're hot,” Pietro whispers back.

“I think we should be friends,” Lucas tells him, and Pietro makes the weirdest face at him and he has no idea how to interpret it.

“Why?” he asks, and he looks kind of baffled, and Lucas shrugs.

“You're number one on a list of one person who's been able to have that conversation with me in the past calendar year, we should hang out more is all I'm saying,” Lucas says. Plus Pietro is basically just like, European Peter, so it'd be a nice way to round out his Friendship Circle, but Lucas doesn't tell him that. But Pietro seems kind of perked up about it, and Wanda's shooting them both a smile that makes Lucas go all weird and twisty and unhappy inside, so it's got to be a good thing.

“So this is Loki,” someone says mildly, and Lucas realizes that it's totally Magneto, who's totally been watching for some time.

“I don't do that anymore,” Lucas says, edging back over to where James is silently looming. “My name is Lucas.”

“Luka mine, Daddy mine,” Thora growls, and Magneto looks like he's not sure what to make of a talking baby wolf puppy.

“She's my daughter,” Lucas offers, and Magneto just raises his eyebrows at him.

“I find that a bit hard to believe,” he says, after a moment, and Lucas frowns.

“Well, okay, biologically she's my granddaughter, but I'm not really going to split hairs over it,” he says firmly, hugging her to his chest. “Anyway, look, Mister Magneto, uh... hi.”

“Hello,” Magneto says, looking vaguely bemused over the whole situation. “So from what I understand, two humans, a magpie, and a... young wolf have trespassed on my base. One human is a known assassin and one human is claiming to be Loki, only _not anymore_. And my children tell me you have come here to ask for a favor.”

“Yep, that's right,” Lucas says quietly. He looks searchingly at James, who shrugs and pats Lucas on the back.

“This is your party, Lucas,” he says, and Lucas nods a little.

“Look, I wouldn't have bothered you,” he says softly, “but, uh, I have this problem, and I was told that you have something that would help me.” Lucas sees Magneto frown, and he steps forward. “Look, I don't know if- if you and I have met before, I don't know if we used to work together or on opposing sides, I don't know anything about it anymore, but I don't know who else I can go to and I thought it would be worth a shot.”

“And what is it you would ask of me, Lucas?” Magneto asks, and Lucas thinks for a moment and puts Thora in James's arms.

“Your helmet. Your blocks-out-people-from-going-into-your-mind helmet,” Lucas qualifies, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just... I mean, it's these... these things, okay, I don't really know what they are, but they- I just, that's the kind of thing I need, and I was told you have one, and that not too many people do.”

“I am incredibly disappointed,” Magneto says flatly. “You've been seen alongside the Avengers.”

“Ye-es, but that's neither here nor there,” Lucas says cautiously.

“So tell me, when a known ally of a team that has worked against me comes forth with a request to just... give over to him the one thing that protects my mind from the machinations of my only opponent, what do you think I should do?” he asks, and Lucas bites his lower lip. Magneto turns and looks at his children, who both look at each other. “Do you have an opinion?”

“No, Father, only-” Wanda pauses, and Lucas notices that her hand nudges slightly against Pietro's, and he misses his own brothers. “Only they don't _seem_ to have come with any intentions of harming us.”

“And how can we tell?” Magneto presses, looking over at the other Hot Mutants with him. “We are, after all, talking about the so-called God of Lies and an assassin. Mystique, what would you have me do?”

“Well,” she says, after a moment of looking super hot and super blue. It distresses Lucas how attractive and cool she looks, especially since she's probably not going to be nice to him today. “The assassin we can probably just kill right now, since it's not like anyone's going to miss him. That other one is going to be a bit trickier, if there are people looking for him.”

“We're not looking for trouble,” James says, looking over at Lucas. “But if you guys keep talking about killing me and my friend here, you're going to get some.”

“Says a guy with a metal arm in a room full of people who could rip it off his body in seconds,” Hot Punk Mutant Guy sneers. Wanda and Pietro are both looking about as worried as Lucas feels right now. “What're you going to do, bleed on us?”

“Nah,” James says, his hand in his pocket. “But if you keep threatening Lucas like that, I can think of a bunch of ways you're going to regret it in a few minutes.”

“Hey, wait, no, please,” Lucas pleads, looking at Magneto. “Look, it's okay, we're not going to do anything drastic if you won't, but honestly, the thing I need is the helmet. It doesn't have to be that particular helmet, I just need something to block out these bad guys that are trying to get into my mind. I mean, is that something you can build, do you know of any other helmets like it? That's all I'm asking for, is information, that's all I need.”

“You have walked into the place where my children sleep,” Magneto says coldly. “I've seen what happens when information like that is given to the government. I've seen what your kind does to our children. Do you really think I'm going to let you leave here and endanger mine?” Magneto looks like he's about to say more, but he stops and looks intently at James. With a flick of his wrist the cheap cellphone flies out of James's pocket, and in the split second before it crushes in on itself in midair, Lucas can see the blue light of the screen.

“Who were you trying to call?” Magneto roars, and Lucas raises his hands, trying to placate him.

“Well, you know, technically, we did warn you not to freak us out like that, and it was the Avengers,” Lucas says, all in a rush. “But-”

For a moment Lucas doesn't hear anything over the ringing noise. Then the pain comes and he realizes that the ringing noise isn't coming from anywhere, it's in his head, literally. His skull is vibrating so hard that he can't see anything but a blur, and he knows he's on the ground and that James must be, too, because Thora's whimpering and licking his face, and he's such an _idiot_.

“Don't cry, baby,” he slurs, running a hand over the top of her head. “S'gunna be okay, is okay, is okay, lovey.”

“Blood,” she wails, pawing at his face and ears. “Lukadaddy, no, no no no, mine, no.”

“Shh, it's okay,” he hears himself say, and he hears something else, but he's not sure what it is. The ringing stops, just like that, and the silence it leaves is just as deafening. He feels Ikol's feet on the side of his head, in his hair, and concludes that he must be at least somewhat on his side now. Everything is bad and everything hurts.

“Then you will take responsibility for them,” he hears Magneto say. “Take Daken with you, at least. Someone should be there to protect you if I'm not there to do so.”

“Come on,” he hears Wanda say, and everything is shiny pink before it goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody is dead please don't worry about it.


	4. Lucas and Petulance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucas smells the smoke but doesn't see the fire.

Lucas isn't sure how he's awake and aware of anything, but he knows he's not in the place he remembers being last. He opens his eyes, and the world is darkness and bone all around him.

"What?" he asks fuzzily, and a soft, cool hand brushes the hair back from his forehead.

"I was wondering when you'd realize you were here," a voice says. Lucas has a really hard time pinpointing who the voice sounds like, but it's very familiar. He looks over, and the owner of the voice and the hand is a zombie. Half dead, half alive, wearing some kind of mask, and Lucas knows that maybe he should be afraid but he really, really isn't.

"All these religions running around with their afterlives," he says after a moment. "And it's really undead luchadores?"

The zombie laughs, and Lucas grins. The zombie is definitely familiar, and he likes them.

"There is more than one afterlife," they say, "and really, Dad? The mask was a gift."

"Dad?" Lucas thinks, bewildered for a moment, because this lovely sweet zombie is definitely not Thora. They smile, and then it hits Lucas.

"Oh. Ohhh. Hela? Right?"

"Right," they confirm. "So it seems we're in a bit of a predicament, eh?"

"Are we?" Lucas asks, reaching out a hand. Hela regards it for a moment, before taking it and squeezing it in their own bony hand. "This isn't the worst."

"That's sweet," Hela says gently. "But it really isn't your time, Dad."

"Aw, but-" Lucas pauses, and Hela pulls him in for a gentle hug. "I wanted to meet you. I wanted to be with you and know you."

"I know," Hela tells him. They kiss his forehead and he feels like it's wrong, he feels like he should be the one comforting Hela. "You will get to know me, Dad. Fenris is waiting to see you again, too."

"Aw, Fenris," Lucas sighs, and Hela pats his shoulder. "Is he okay? Does he have-" Lucas feels his face twist into something ugly. "The other puppies, you know, they-"

"Oh, Dad," Hela says softly, and pulls him into another hug. "Yes, they're all around here somewhere. And when you're ready, you'll meet them all again."

"I like this idea a lot better than Valhalla," Lucas admits. "This place is quiet, and I would like to just, you know. Hang out with you guys and make up for lost time."

"You'll have a very long time to do so, Dad," Hela grins, half their mouth soft and the other half an eerie rictus. "Time is going to be the one thing you'll never ever lack when you get here. Just- you know, watch yourself out there in the living world. Don't die in a weird way, alright?"

"What?" Lucas asks, blinking. "Like, define weird? Because right now I'm guessing I'm here because of Magneto-induced brain damage, like how much weirder could it get?"

"Dad, you know what's been hunting you," Hela says quietly, nose against Lucas's. "I know you don't remember much, but I know you remember that. I know you remember what they did to you last time."

For a second the pressure around his throat and against his mouth feels realer than the memory that it is, and he can _hear_ the voices, _make you long for something so sweet_ , and he almost gags before Hela catches him in their arms.

"Dad," Hela says urgently, and Lucas nods against their neck. "Dad, you can't let them get you again. You really can't. They'll take you to where I can't find you, do you understand?" Lucas shudders, imagining what that would be like, imagining it going on forever.

"I keep thinking," Lucas mumbles, clutching a little at Hela's back. "I keep thinking that I must have been the worst father in the universe to you guys. But everybody keeps ending up turning out kind of okay. And now I have Thora and I just, um, Hela, was I-" He looks up at them, and their smile is fond.

"You're doing great," Hela promises. "And even though I'm in no hurry to see either of you, it's going to be fantastic when you come home to me at last."

"Oh," Lucas breathes out. "Okay. Yeah. That- yeah."

"Looks like you're almost done here," Hela notes, glancing to the side at something Lucas can't see. "Before you go, Fenris had a message for you, about how to take care of something for Thora."

"Oh! Oh, tell me!" Lucas gasps, and Hela smiles faintly.

"He said you're not going to like it, but it's sort of... sort of a magical defense mechanism that he programmed into the puppies. None of the living realms were particularly kind to him in his wolven form, you understand? But he said there's a way to... switch her over, so that she can fit in a little better. It's going to demand a blood sacrifice to complete the switch," Hela adds solemnly. "And here's the part you're not going to like-"

"More than disliking a blood sacrifice?!" Lucas cries, and Hela is speaking but now he can't hear them.

He can hear James, though, and already the dark world made of cool winds and polished bone is fading away.

"-cas! Lucas, can you hear me? Please-" 

"Balls," Lucas hears himself groan, and when he opens his eyes he sees James and Ikol perched on his shoulder. 

"What? Lucas, what-" James starts, looking shaken.

"Fuck!" Lucas wails, but his stomach is heaving and he is on his side and vomiting into a bucket before he can say anything else.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

It's his second day 'back' and he's pretty sure it's everyone else's second day as well, and Lucas has had his fill of the Brotherhood of Mutants for pretty much the rest of his life.

It's not Pietro. Pietro's great, Lucas loves him. It's not even Wanda, although he's getting kind of sick of feeling like he's too slow and stupid for her- mostly because that's not even fair to her. He just feels like that because she and James have been doing the thing where they're always staring when they think the other one can't see, and it's stupid for a lot of reasons, to be jealous of James over that. And of course, both Pietro and Wanda are turning out to be really cute and friendly, and Wanda and Ikol have managed to have some in-depth conversations about magic that nobody else could comprehend, which is... just... fantastic for them.

Lucas is pretty sure it's Daken who's getting on his nerves the most. Everyone he didn't personally bring from Asgard has been getting on his nerves, for some reason, but Daken is the worst. He's the worst because apparently he's the reason Lucas lived- something or other that Wanda tried to explain about his mutant power, and blood tranfusions but like, through magic? It made zero sense to Lucas at the time, and he hasn't felt any urge to revisit the topic.

James didn't need it, of course. James apparently has his own healing factor, of course. James is like a flippin' amnesiac Captain America or something, what with his healing and super assassin reflexes and his improbable aiming skills-

"Hey," Daken says, inviting himself to sit next to Lucas. Lucas swallows dryly, wondering if he's stupid for jumping to conclusions about James in his moment of resentment-fueled clarity.

"Uh, yo," Lucas coughs, glancing over and trying not to grimace. It would be like ten thousand times easier if Daken didn't have such a stupid handsome smirkface, which is like, his default expression. And he's got all these really cool looking tattoos, and this awesome mohawk that Lucas wants to touch, like, all the time.

"You look like you're trying not to shit yourself," Daken says bluntly.

"And then you had to talk," Lucas says, just as bluntly. Daken barks a laugh, while Lucas takes a mental step back to wonder what the hell is actually wrong with him right now.

"I'm- jeez, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that," Lucas mumbles, face burning.

"You did," Daken grins at him. "So why d'you keep giving Wanda and your buddy the fisheye?"

"What? Nothing," Lucas says, calling Thora over and pulling her into his lap. Daken doesn't leave, though, which is... not ideal. "What?"

"Are you jealous or something?" Daken asks curiously, and Lucas looks over at him, stricken.

"What? No, not- not jealous," he fumbles, his gaze falling as he scratches behind Thora's ears. "Just, you know, thinking. About stuff. And looking. And they happen to be in the line of vision."

"You're the worst liar I've ever met," Daken concludes, slapping Lucas too-hard on the shoulder. Lucas scowls and pulls out his little Asgardian Kindle thing, muttering at it to pull up all info about camoflage magic. He figures if he starts reading silently, Daken will take the hint and leave.

Daken does no such thing. He watches Lucas for several minutes, which unnerves Lucas to the point that he ends up reading the same sentence six times in a row.

"You keep reading the same thing," Daken points out, unhelpfully. Lucas glares at him.

"I'm trying to read the _whole_ thing, so could you just-" Lucas pauses, glancing down at the Asgardian reader. "How can you tell? You don't read Allspeak, do you?"

"Your lips move when you read," Daken says nonchalantly. "And you subvocalize. Do you really not know that?"

"Well that explains why my throat hurts when I marathon Discworld novels all night long," Lucas mutters. He licks his lips, and gives Daken another glare. "I would appreciate if you went elsewhere."

"We don't all get what we want, now do we?" Daken asks philosophically.

Lucas waits until James comes over to pull him into a corner. He's not sure why the hotel is letting five people, a wolf, and a bird stay in the room, but he really wishes they had a little more room to themselves. It feels shitty to talk about Daken with the guy making suggestive eyebrows at him, but still.

"I'm really uncomfortable," Lucas whispers, and James shoots him an extremely dry look.

"Yeah? Because you're currently a hostage of a mutant terrorist group with no clear idea on when or if they're going to release or kill you?"

"Nnno, I hadn't gone there yet," Lucas admits. "No, uh- James, please don't leave me alone anymore, okay?"

"What's going on?" James asks immediately. "Is someone-"

"I need to talk to you about what I saw when I was dead," Lucas interrupts. James looks uneasy.

"Look, you weren't... you didn't die, Luke, you just lost consciousness for a few-"

"I was in Hell," Lucas hisses back. "Actually in Hell, talking to Hela, ruler of the dead. Literally in Hell, inside the place where dead people go. I want to tell you what I saw, alright?"

"Shit, alright," James says, nodding. "Are- are you okay?"

"Well, Hela calls me Dad, but it was all surprisingly cool, A-plus, would recommend," Lucas says flatly. "Long story short, Fenris... was also some sort of wizard wolf guy, he gave Thora the ability to blend in better- which... I don't know what that means, I mean, I'm going with the "people's perceptions change to not really notice her" thing, that sounds like the sort of thing I would have done-"

"Focus," James says softly, and Lucas nods.

"And that it would require some kind of... specific blood sacrifice to do it," Lucas finishes. James blanches a little at that.

"What kind of blood sacrifice?" he asks, and Lucas shrugs.

"They didn't get a chance to tell me, just said that I wouldn't like it."

"I already don't like it," James says, exasperated.

"I know, right?!" Lucas exclaims. "Who even does that?"

"Other than you and your kids?" James asks, and Lucas frowns. Their eyes meet and they both come to the same conclusion at the same time.

"Ikol, come over here, please," Lucas calls, and Ikol flaps over. Lucas explains the situation again, only a bit abridged once he realizes how uncomfortable he's making Ikol talking about Hela and "Dad."

"So what do you think?" James asks. "You have any experience with that?"

"Not personally, technically," Ikol says, cocking his head to the side. "But I think I know how it works. For Thora to be able to use this magic when she's still so young, it has to be something the pack's alpha wolf can do. And if it's a blood sacrifice, that means actually drinking the blood."

"Ugh," Lucas groans. "Nastiness."

"You have better get used to the idea," Ikol says flatly. "You're her pack alpha now, remember?"

"I'm what," Lucas says, blinking. "But- but that-"

"Think back to when you met Fenris," Ikol says. "Alpha status is something he would have had to transmit through the blood."

"I'm absolutely one hundred percent positive that's not how it works with wolves on Earth," Lucas hisses furiously. James nods.

"And you're dealing with a half-wolf, half... Asgardian-passing Jotun, one who managed to become a successful warlock without the use of opposable thumbs," Ikol argues patiently. "I don't see how Earth rules would apply to a creature with parentage not of Earth. May I continue?"

"You may," Lucas says, taken aback.

"Fenris would have had to bite you," Ikol finishes, fixing his beady little bird eye on Lucas. "But he never did, the last person we _know_ he bit was Tyr-"

"Uh," Lucas says, hand over his face. "No. Fenris did so bite me that one time I went to pee and we all assumed it was a dream."

"Well you know what making assumptions does," James prompts, and both Lucas and Ikol treat him to a double serving of identical, cross-species glares.

"What?" James asks innocently. "I'm actually not the one who has to drink the blood this time. I'm not going to just let this go."

"We never- okay, you know what, never mind with that story, you can save it for later," Lucas mutters. "Do we even know what kind of blood I'm supposed to be drinking, or how much?"

"No, and no," Ikol says. "Fenris would have had to make do with whatever he had on hand, though."

"In actual Asgard," Lucas growls, shaking his head. "Where we currently can't exactly get back to."

"Not necessarily," Ikol says hopefully. "There are creatures and monsters that cross back and forth all the time. And if all Fenris had was the blood of an Asgardian, well, the good news is that we do know where Thor is, so..."

"I'm not drinking Thor's blood," Lucas interrupts. "Jesus, what if it needs like, a gallon?"

"You'll throw up if you drink a gallon of blood," Daken offers from across the room. "Trust me, if you drink a gallon of human blood, you will vomit. Personal experience on this one."

"Stop eavesdropping, that's disgusting," Lucas snaps. He blinks at Ikol and James, who are giving each other... weird looks, to say the least. "What's wrong with you guys?"

"Nothing," Ikol says briskly. "Just... noticed something interesting, that's all."

"What? What is it?" Lucas asks, but James clears his throat.

"We should really walk Thora, come on." They go together- Lucas doesn't trust any of the Brotherhood alone in a room with anyone of his posse- and Lucas tries to puzzle out what sort of so-called interesting thing Ikol could notice about Daken, of all people.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Lucas feels an intense feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, because they're finally talking about moving to a new location. He thinks that if they stay, they have a much better chance of one of the Avengers finding them. He supposes that's probably why they're moving.

Lucas is fiddling with his Allspeak reader when he has an idea- or, at least, remembers an idea he had when he first got back to Earth, but initially rejected. 

"Hey, Ikol," Lucas says softly, holding out an arm to let Ikol perch. "I have an idea."

"Does it involve anyone in our presence?" Ikol asks, a little too quickly. 

"What? No. What?" Lucas asks suspiciously, and Ikol fluffs himself a little bit.

"Nothing, just, you know. Maybe it would be good to get Tyr off your mind a bit," Ikol says slowly, and Lucas is frankly taken aback.

"I wasn't even- I wasn't talking about Tyr!" Lucas mumbles hoarsely, looking at the ceiling for a moment. "I wasn't even thinking about him until you brought him up, jeesh."

"A thousand pardons," Ikol says, flapping a wing at Lucas. "So what did you want to talk about, then?"

"Astral projection," Lucas says, waggling his eyebrows. "If you can tell me how to project myself astrally I can-"

"No," Ikol snaps. "What are you thinking?"

"Baldur, and Doc, in the astral plane," Lucas says, fumbling for his words. He hadn't expected Ikol to fight him on this. "They- if I can just, then- to find, to, to see us, I mean-"

"Baldur is beyond helping us and this Doctor isn't actively hunting you," Ikol caws loudly. "Not the way those things are."

"So I just let it happen?" Lucas asks sourly. "This is awful. They're going to rip me apart and what if they get to you guys, too? And then what, even if it really is just me they get, what's going to happen to you and Thora? You gonna take her to Thor and tell him who you are and hope it's a _big_ cage?"

"I understand the stress of the situation is turning you into a temperamental little pissant, but you need to stop this foolishness," Ikol says flatly. "Did your most recent brain injury knock a little bit of me loose in there, Lucas?"

"You're a jerk," Lucas snaps, pulling himself to his feet. "That's fine if you won't help me, because, let's face it, you're only all that great at reminding me why everybody hated me before."

"You're being a complete and utter ass," Ikol hisses, fluttering away. Lucas pulls a face, because he- he already feels bad. He's sure he didn't mean any of that, and he feels like a monster for saying it at all. He shuffles his feet a little bit before pushing himself out into the night air. It's not that far to the parking lot, and there's no car but he assumes Pietro or Wanda or Daken has a van they used to get them here, maybe even James's van around here somewhere. 

Only there's nothing- only the far-distance glow from Wanda's hand as she and James walk into the diner next to the motel's lobby, and something in Lucas burns like acid.

"Jealousy," Daken says quietly, startling him. Lucas turns around, and Daken gives him a cocky little grin. "I can smell it off you in spades, you know. You're so damn jealous of your friend."

"I'm not sure how I feel about you smelling my emotions," Lucas says, after a minute.

"Pheromones, technically," Daken says, coming closer. "Like the ones that come off you when you're trying to figure out why you want to fuck me."

"I don't want to-" Lucas says, then pauses, thinking the past several days over. "You're an asshole. Oh my god, am I turning into an asshole because of your asshole blood transfusion?"

"You mean the lifesaving procedure that put you back in that damaged meatsack?" Daken asks, leaning in. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I just got out of a long-term relationship," Lucas whispers fiercely.

"Are you callin' me a rebound?" Daken whispers back.

"I'm not calling you anything, Jesus," Lucas mutters, exasperated. 

"Akihiro," Daken says, nudging Lucas's ankle with his foot. "My name isn't Jesus. Akihiro."

"You're not cute," Lucas says, leaning forward and inhaling. Daken's mouth is soft and tastes like pennies and stale coffee and it's not remotely attractive, but Lucas really likes it. There's a brisk, sudden wind that blows the hair back from their faces, and they both blink.

"What are you- whatareyoudoing?" Pietro asks, extremely suddenly. Lucas jumps away from Daken, who doesn't bother moving or pretending to be otherwise occupied.

"I'm not doing things," Lucas says defensively, and Pietro gapes at him. 

"Are you two-"

"Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?" Daken interrupts, and Pietro looks vaguely ill.

"I'm going to go talk to the bird about the dog now bye," he says, zipping away. Lucas shuts his eyes and counts to ten.

"So that's a moment that's never going to repeat itself," he says, before opening his eyes again. "I don't even know where that came from."

"Pure animal magnetism," Daken boasts.

"Loneliness, stress, and slim pickin's," Lucas corrects sourly. "You're an asshole, that's not really the kind of person I go for."

"Your last boyfriend was the God of War, I'm pretty sure he had no room to talk," Daken points out mildly. Lucas frowns and looks down.

"Look, don't take this personally, I just... I'm not interested." Lucas frowned, rubbing his arm. "What are you guys even doing with us? We're not... we're really not a threat to you. I just need to figure out how to get these interdimensional psychos off my trail."

"Do you really want to know?" Daken asks, sidling closer, all the grace and power of a particularly sleek panther. 

"You only say that when you think the person doesn't want to know," Lucas says quietly. "Is it really that awful?"

"Maybe to you," Daken says. "You're all starting to trust us, as if you think we're your friends. As if you could ever be anything other than smears on the pavement to us."

"Don't solicit me for makeouts anymore," Lucas says sternly.

"You've seen the Avengers on the TV a few times since you got here, haven't you?" Daken asks rhetorically. "Even before this, you've always been Thor's weakness. I mean, man in a metal suit? That's nothing to Magneto, and that's the best the baselines could come up with. Even the gifted ones on that team are nothing compared to us, but Thor... he's the only one that poses a threat. And you know what? I think we can guaran-fucking-tee that he's going to keep his hammer to himself the next time we need to make an example of the apes who infest this planet."

"He's not going to let you walk all over him, hostage or no," Lucas says, and Daken laughs.

"He doesn't know we have you yet. He'll be getting a finger in the mail soon, though. Really soon."

"You're bluffing," Lucas says, after a moment. "You wouldn't tell me all this."

"Why not?" Daken asks gently. "There's not a thing you can do to stop me. There's _no point_ in not telling you." He flicks an arm out and has Lucas by the wrist before he can really process what Daken is saying, and when Lucas tries pulling back his grip only tightens.

"Let go of me," Lucas says, and he hates that he can hear himself pleading. "Don't be that person."

"I am that person," Daken tells him, eyes hardening. "Did you think differently? You don't even know me. Hell, we had more in common when you were wearing horns and a cape."

"Your parents must be so proud," Lucas says, and Daken shoves him back, hard enough to knock him flat on his ass. 

"We don't need to take all your fingers, but we're going to," Daken says coldly, tilting his head. "We only need to send Thor one, but what the hell, I like the way they taste. It's the little things in life, right?"

Lucas doesn't say anything- he knows how that goes, talking back to the person who put you on the ground. He just stares up at Daken, watching him for a moment that never comes. Daken glares down at him for about a minute, before scoffing and taking off. Lucas waits, before gently, achingly pulling himself up into a seated position.

"Lovely," Lucas muses, massaging his elbow. He's starting to wonder if there's even a single place in the nine worlds where people are relatively healthy.

At least Daken's given him a real threat that can probably convince Ikol to help him try to contact Doc, he thinks.

He also thinks that if Daken was just outside the room like that, he probably heard the entire conversation with the magpie, and Lucas is aware that if Daken's motives seem transparent, they're almost definitely not, but Lucas would rather cross that bridge after his brother gets here.

 


	5. Friends in Low Places

James pokes his head into the door to the bathroom where Lucas and Thora and Ikol are gathered.

"It's a family meeting," Lucas tells him, and he is almost all the way out of the door again before Thora snags his pants leg in her mouth. Lucas shakes a finger at him. "Attendance is mandatory! James!"

"Okay," James says quickly, scooping Thora into his arms. "Okay, what are we having a family meeting about?"

"This whole situation," Lucas says, blinking. "James, we gotta think really carefully, alright?"

"Alright," he echoes, leaning against the sink.

"Daken just said the Brotherhoodians plan on cutting off my fingers and mailing them to Thor to make Thor not, uh," Lucas shrugs. "To make him not... stop them? I kind of don't understand the whole plan. It seems like it might be a bit shortsighted."

"How would Thor even know it was your finger?" James replies thoughtfully. "They could be anybody's fingers."

Lucas pauses, looking over at Ikol in dismay.

"I feel like it would bother Thor tremendously no matter who the fingers belonged to," Ikol says after a moment.

"I feel like I agree," Lucas says faintly. "Isn't that like, half the point of the Green Hornet? He decides to act like he's a bad guy because good guys can basically be controlled by the bad guys because all the bad guy has to do is target some innocent person and not even someone the good guy knows?"

"The Green Hornet? They still have that?" James asks, surprised, and Lucas nods, grinning.

"Seth Rogen is in it. He's funny," he says, and James doesn't seem to have a response for that. Ikol steps a little on Lucas's shoulder.

"I believe the members of a Brotherhood would just be called Brothers," he says, pecking lightly at Lucas's ear. "Although, what do I know? I'm just a concerned bird who doesn't want to see your mind torn asunder by demonic forces. Anyway."

"I know," Lucas replies quietly, reaching up to play with Ikol's feathers. "Sorry for earlier."

"Guys, this conversation is getting away from us," James says, snuggling Thora a bit. "So Daken's told you they plan on torturing you and using you in order to control Thor, huh?"

"Or is that what he _wants_ us to think!" Lucas cuts in, remembering where he was going with that earlier. "See, maybe the plan is to scare us into contacting the Avengers so they can have Thor and them right where they want them!"

"In Wyoming?" James asks, batting playfully at Thora's paws. "No, I mean, you're right. That's definitely a possibility. So is the possibility that they just assume you and I wouldn't be able to stop them and are too afraid of how you almost had your brain jellified by Wanda's dad the last time I tried to contact your friends."

"Yeah, but Wanda'n'Pietro-Dad's not here right now," Lucas points out.

"Yeah, but any one of them can kill the shit out of you without trying all that hard," James says solemnly.

"Yeah, but-" Lucas pauses, frowning. "Okay, so they could have their own reasons for wanting us to either sit and do nothing, or not-do-nothing and contact the Avengers."

"So, in other words," Ikol says after a pregnant pause, "no matter what we do, there's no reason to think it will unduly affect whatever plans they have."

Lucas sighs, and James reaches over and pats him on the head with his prosthetic hand.

"So we just have to think of something so fucked up that they could not possibly have seen it coming," he says mildly, and Lucas perks up a little.

"That's... that's a good idea. And _language_ ," he adds, glancing down at Thora. She snaps sleepily at him with a good-natured puppy noise, and he melts a little.

"You know what?" Lucas says happily, a small smile forming on his face. "I just thought of something really great, something that's gonna help us in our quest to get the help we need."

"What's that?" Ikol asks, and the grin Lucas gives him is more than a little devious.

"Before I came to Asgard, there was something... awesome, and glorious. It's over now, but the legend lives on, as a testament to how awesome the people of Earth are." Ikol and James turn equally interested looks his way, and it's all he can do not to burst into evil-type cackles.

"I am referring, of course, to Harlem Shake videos."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Pietro?" Lucas asks, nudging the silver-haired mutant. "Can I borrow your laptop?"

"No," Pietro says instantly.

"It's for a good cause," Lucas insists.

"No," Pietro repeats, looking over at him.

"I just want to borrow it for a little while, I promise not to use it for porn reasons," Lucas says cheerfully.

"No, you cannot borrow it," Pietro snaps.

"James and Ikol and Thora have never seen Harlem Shake videos," Lucas says earnestly. Pietro stares at him.

"...and this is my problem how?" he asks after a moment of stunned silence.

"Just some videos," Lucas pleads. "I'll stay on Youtube. I won't do anything but Youtube."

"That meme died two years ago!" Pietro exclaims.

"But I was on another planet! It's not dead to me!" Lucas replies, pouting. "Please! Please, Pietro! I'm not asking you to unkidnap me, I just want to watch some videos with my bros and my wolf daughter!"

"Ugh!" Pietro mutters, covering his eyes with one hand. "No, Lucas, because if you use my laptop I'm going to have to stay in here and watch you use it, you realize."

"That's the opposite of a problem," Lucas chirps.

"It means I'll have to listen to Harlem Shake videos nonstop for six hours while I make sure you're not contacting the Avengers," Pietro elaborates.

"The opposite!" Lucas says happily. "Of! A problem!"

 " _Really!_ " Pietro says, loud enough that Wanda pops her head into the room.

"What is going on in here?" she asks, her dark hair up in curlers. Lucas declines to comment.

"He's trying to use my laptop to contact the Avengers!" Pietro snaps.

"I am not!" Lucas gasps, pointing at Pietro. "I promise not to contact any Avengers! I just want to show everyone Harlem Shake videos!"

"You promise not to?" Wanda asks, sighing and looking pointedly at Pietro. "Brother dear, do you really think he's capable of contacting them while you're watching him?"

"Well- no, but-"

"Just put it on the damn Youtube and let him watch some videos," she commands. Pietro scowls, turning and finding himself nose to nose with Lucas's biggest and dorkiest grin.

"I fucking hate you," he says, fighting the urge to smile back at him.

"I love your sister almost as much as I love you," Lucas singsongs. "Now we can watch the videos!"

It takes a few minutes to get everyone set up. Thora and James only only peripherally interested, and Ikol certainly seems pretty into the idea, but only because he's curious to see how this all plays out.

Lucas painstakingly types into the search bar, Pietro lurking over one shoulder, and with a triumphant smile hits play.

Every time a video elicits a giggle from Thora or an embarassed grin from James, Lucas types a quick, anonymous comment lauding the merits of the video. Every time. After the first hour and a half, Pietro's attention wanes, and even though he keeps an eye on the proceedings- not like he can't hear the same damn song start over every damn minute- he starts paying less attention to what Lucas is actually typing.

James tucks himself in around Lucas, looking pinched around the eyes but recognizing that he's in for the long haul on this one. Ikol nests between them, mostly to keep an eye on the increasingly sleepy wolf puppy.

Lucas realizes that both James and Ikol are only humoring him. That is okay because the two of them are not privy to the same information he is, he reasons, clicking on the next video.  A placid-faced, brownskinned bald guy in a suit and wire-rim eyeglasses features prominently in the first few seconds, and when the crazy dancing starts he and a muscular blonde guy in sunglasses pelt each other in the face with tennis balls while a trio of women in business suits go nuts in the background.

Lucas smiles fondly, before typing out his next comment.

_I remember filming this with you. I still can't believe you got Maria and Pepper in on this._

Lucas hits play again, sighing happily as he watches his- his friends, he decides, whatever he might have meant to them aside, that's what they were. By the time the video ends again the man who originally posted it has responded.

_I'm surprised you remember_ , the reply says. _Game night hasn't been the same without you_.

Lucas hums and racks his brain for a moment. There is a code here, he knows it, but he also has no idea what it is. He forgot it probably the instant Phil and Jasper tried to teach him, and his year-and-a-half in Asgard has not helped his memory. He settles for a simple, _I would really love to see you again soon._ James and Ikol are only barely paying attention, but Ikol's silence is heavy as he starts putting it together.

Pietro pops his head up just as Lucas starts typing into the search bar.

"What are you doing?" he asks suspiciously, although- Lucas notices, both happy and resentful- not suspicious enough to actually come over and look.

"Gangnam Style," Lucas says simply, and Pietro winces and flops down again. It's maybe another hour of watching different fanmade versions before he goes back to Jasper's Youtube channel and clicks on the one they'd been working on together. Lucas really can't stop himself from grinning as he watches.

"Heeeeey, sexy lady!" Jasper sings to the camera  as Darcy frolicks behind him.

_God I miss you guys so much_ , he leaves in a comment. James' hand tightens around his shoulder. _Too  bad my roomates are so rude- I literally cannot leave the house sometimes._

He doesn't even have to rewatch the video before there's a near-instantaneous reply.

_Where u at?_

_haha_ , Lucas types, his chest feeling uncomfortably tight. _WY do u ask?_

"Lucas," Pietro says, yawning. "You've got to be done with the videos." Lucas wordlessly queues up a fan-video of King Jareth mashed up with Linkin Park, and Pietro groans. "Are you trying to literally watch every shitty video on the internet?"

"Not every shitty video," Lucas says absently. When it ends he finds a playlist of what appears to be every single Teen Wolf fan video on the planet, though, and he presses play because he figures it'll be just as interesting as everything else he's been doing, as far as Pietro's concerned. After a few minutes, ten or so, he turns and looks over at Pietro.

"You remind me so much of my best friend, and you seem like such a nice person. Why do you hate everybody so much?" he asks softly, and Pietro startles, giving him a narrow-eyed look.

"You don't know what it's like," he says flatly. "You'd feel the same if you knew."

"I did," Lucas replies. James stands, popping the joints in his spine, and mutters his intentions to walk Thora, leaving Pietro and Lucas to their little staring match.

"You have," Pietro says quietly, " _no idea_. You've never been looked down on and hunted for what you are."

"You know that's not true," Lucas says sharply. "Don't you even say that, not to me."

"The real you would have agreed with me," Pietro says unkindly, and Lucas inhales, glad that Ikol's outside with Thora.

"The real me thinks you're being an asshole," Lucas replies, pushing the laptop towards the end of the bed so he can turn his attention to Pietro. "And you know what? Agreeing with you wouldn't have made the old me right."

"You have no idea," Pietro repeats, and Lucas is fed up.

"No? Really? No?" Lucas points accusingly. "Okay, Mister Moral High Ground, explain to me your Dad's master plan, then. Explain to me how protecting mutant kids turned into being okay with kidnapping and murder." There are dark shapes at the edge of Lucas's vision, and he knows he should calm down and breathe, but he's just about done with walking on eggshells here.

"This is a war," Pietro tells him darkly. "And we haven't murdered you, in case you haven't noticed-"

"Where are you going to go from here?" Lucas demands. "Gonna keep me like a pet, your little token human? All because your Dad couldn't spend five minutes magneto-ing a helmet together for me? All because Daddy told you that he'd rather make you kill me than let me be with my brother?"

"Shut up, baseline," Pietro says, on his feet. Lucas blinks back angry tears, the dark shapes really crowding his vision now. "I don't have to  take this shit from you, you know? You're like every other one of them, jealous of, of our gifts, the fact that we're superior-"

"Oh yeah, because the accident of your genetics is something that makes you superior-" Lucas sneers, a little wetly.

"-and you used to be like us and you threw it away to be normal," Pietro spits out. "You threw away the only thing you had so you could be more like _them_."

"I didn't choose this!" Lucas all but roars, and he's not even sure if he's ever heard himself yell like this. "You think I chose getting the shit beat out of me so hard I literally lost everything I ever was, that I chose a life where I can't do anything fucking right? You think I chose a life where the only memories that ever come back are the fucking nightmares? You think I chose a life where I can never even try to keep up with the fucking gods and monsters and heroes and bullshit _gifted youngsters_ who keep fucking my life over?"

Lucas shuts his eyes, pressing his palms against his eyelids. "I was happy, I was so happy, I had friends and I had a life and ever since, god, ever since..."

Pietro is quiet, eventually speaking in a soft monotone. "Everyone said... everyone said you lied. Everyone said you wanted to hide away so the people you owed wouldn't come looking for you."

"Yeah, because the best way to do that was spending a year needing someone to help me wipe my own-" Lucas stops, his hands down, his eyes open. The dark shapes that blossomed in his field of vision aren't going away after he catches his breath.

They're grinning at him.

"Nuhhh," Lucas all but whimpers, and the warm trickle of blood drips over his lips and down his chin before Pietro glances over and notices.

"Hey, you- you know  you're bleeding?" he asks warily.

"I... I have to get out of here," Lucas gasps, practically falling over himself to get his cane. "I gotta... oh god, I'm... I gotta..."

He's not sure how he makes it outside and into the parking lot before he throws up everything he ate today, which... wasn't much to begin with.

It doesn't matter, none of this matters, he thinks, staggeringly blindly back from one of the dark shapes that seems to be getting too close. He has no idea where the others are, but there is a gust of wind and a pair of hands on his back, and he can hear, over the sound of the chittering from the shadows, the sound of voices.

"You have to leave," he breathes out, shutting his eyes.

_there you are, little wanderer_

"-if this is some kind of-" he hears, Pietro trying to sound stern and sounding terrified instead.

_did you think we'd forget_

"It's not safe, you gotta leave," Lucas repeats, his words slurring. "They'll see you, they'll f-f-find..."

_you will always belong to Him_

Lucas is dimly aware of being on the ground, of small feet on his back, a soft wet nose against his exposed throat.

It feels like forever before he hears Thora cry out and feels strong hands help him up, and he thinks he doesn't hear the voices anymore, any of them,  and he instinctively curls an arm around his puppy and wonders, before oblivion takes him, where James is now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMMIT.......
> 
> ........I have such good ideas about where to go with this and such shitty ideas about how to get there.


	6. An Empire for You

The first thing he notices is the cold.

The second thing he notices is the body.

 It is human-shaped, and alien- more so than his family and friends on Asgard. There is something familiar and uncomfortable about it-

_a hand on his throat, thick fingers and too many thumbs, and a lipless mouth against his ear, razor teeth tearing at his skin until it runs hot and wet_

-but he's never seen anyone, human or not, that looks like that. 

Lucas takes a step and his knee gives out, and he lies there in an ungainly sprawl for a few moments, nose inches away from the black stone.

"How unlike you," a deep voice purrs, heavy and authoritarian. "You never were one to kneel, before."

Lucas blinks and raises his head. It's another human-shaped alien, larger and brawnier than his father or brother or Tyr, but wearing armor the way Odin does when he wants to look Official. Lucas blinks again. This person- this king- is purple-skinned and craggy, with electric-blue eyes that glow from within, and all around and above him is a sky so full of stars and nebulae that Lucas almost thinks for a moment that he's back on Asgard.

This does not feel like the Astral Plane. There is a harsh pain blossoming in his chest, and Lucas clutches at it and realizes that his shirt is gone, that he's naked and cold and defenseless here.

_come back luka thora good puppy  thora good girl luka_

This does not feel like a dream.

His chest aches.

"Are you not glad?"  the king sneers. "Is the death of your debtor not pleasing to you, boy?"

_not breathing you have to let us call don't you see he's going to die if we don't_

Lucas averts his eyes, unable to look at the corpse.

His chest is burning.

"So many lives wasted," the king muses, but his smile is mocking. "And yet the future your fathers fought to prevent is snapping at your heels. No matter how many times it's been tried, you refuse to be sacrificed to my Lady."

Lucas scrabbles to his feet, heart pounding so hard that he can feel the arteries in his neck twitch.

_did you think we would forgive your debt  
_

"It must be agony," the king whispers, stepping closer. "To be so close to Her. To be so close to Her embrace. To try, and persevere, and fail, knowing that no matter what you do to prevent it,  the blood of everyone you love will be nothing more than a stain on my boot. To know that you will live only long enough to see it and despair. To know that you will be unable to warn them."

Lucas realizes that he isn't breathing.

The king grins, and Lucas remembers a smile like that, and it makes him want to puke or scream or both.

"They should have let you die, boy."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lucas inhales sharply and chokes on the air, eyes wide as he claws, panicked, at his chest and throat. There is a warm presence at his back and arms are curled around him, and hands gently take his wrists.

"Easy, easy," a voice in his ear, hot breath on his cheek, _too close_ , and he can't shriek because he's coughing and breathless.

"Let go of him!" Another voice. Harsher. He can't breathe; every time he sucks air in it starts him coughing again, and his mouth is full. Every time he starts coughing, fine red dots spatter onto his hands and arms, onto the hands holding him. Something thick and metallic oozes down the back of his throat and he gags, the coughing gives way to heaving, and finally he is released.

"Give him some fucking space," the harsh voice. Lucas doesn't mean to throw up but it happens. The smell makes it happen again.

He can't stop shaking.

There are other people in the room. His chest hurts and his throat hurts and his stomach hurts, there's red everywhere, and every breath  leads to a coughing fit that brings black-violet starbursts in his vision. There are other people in the room and he knows he should know them, but everything is bad. A rough hand snatches his upper arm and twists him away from the one holding him, and he is dimly aware that he's in a bathroom, the tile cold under his bare feet. There is a shove and he stumbles, there is a sudden  spray of stinging cold water and he flinches with a slight gasp.

 His clothing is peeled off of him in swift, rough movements, and he curls inward on himself, dimly aware that he doesn't want the person to see his scars, that he doesn't want anyone to see them. 

The water warms up and he's left alone, and he blinks through the spray until he realizes that he can breathe okay, and that he's looking at wet, peach-colored tiles. He presses a hand against the tile wall and looks down. He can't have been standing here long, his legs are trembling under his weight but only a little bit. The pain in his hip and knees is not unbearable yet. There is blood splattered in odd places where the water from the shower doesn't reach, and he spits onto the floor of the shower where the water is running toward the drain. It looks about half blood. He wipes his nose with his other hand and it comes away red.

"Are you okay in there?" the first voice, soft and heavy with guilt. Lucas turns, and he knows the man standing in the doorway with a towel in his hands is a friend, is someone he knows, but he's having a harder time than he thought he'd have putting a name to the sad eyes and tangled hair.

He rubs water out of his eyes. He wants his baby, but he can't remember how to do what the man in the doorway is doing, how to make his thoughts and wants public. He knows he wants to use his voice, to make words come out, but it seems impossible. Standing also seems impossible, now that he's been doing it for a while, and he curls up on the wet tile and presses his mouth against his knees.

"Hey," the man says, coming in closer. He reaches out- his hand is bright silver- and then draws back, looking scared. "Hey, Lucas. You want me to turn the water off?"

Lucas nods, and the man leans over him to turn the faucet back. He squats down on the floor just outside the shower, his head down.

"You really have me worried, buddy."

Lucas licks the water off his lips, hugging his legs-

_useless broken_

-to his chest with one arm. He reaches the other out and makes a grabby hand at the man. His friend.

The man takes it with the flesh hand- skin rough and calloused, still damp- and squeezes gently.

"Well this is the saddest thing I've ever seen," sneers the harsh voice from before. Lucas looks up, and doesn't know how he feels. The man is bad, not his friend, but the man also knew what it was Lucas needed earlier. Maybe one day a friend, Lucas thinks blearily, although a part of him thinks that to be highly unlikely.

"Your dog is whining and your bird is one step away from being kebabed," the  harsh not-friend says, and Lucas stiffens, sitting up a little. The man snorts a little.

"Do you want Thora and Ikol to come in? Or are you... not wanting them to see this?" his friend asks quietly. Lucas doesn't know how to answer, his face crumpling a little as he squeezes his friend's hand. His friend looks even sadder, confusion in his dark eyes.

"Oh, for- I'll go get the animals," the bad one snaps. A beautiful black and white bird swoops in- that's me, Lucas thinks, that's my brother- and a wolf cub, small and fluffy, toddles in after it. Relief nearly overwhelms Lucas as the pup crowds into his lap, crying.

Lucas's friend looks up at the one who is not his friend, his face strange.

"Let us go. Look at him. He needs help," he says. "He can't keep doing this."

"Yeah, I know," the other one says. He is no longer smirking, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest. "And trust me, I don't want to deal with this bullshit any more than you do, so I've arranged for pickup a little earlier than planned."

"You fucking-" His sad, strange friend pauses, eyes narrowing. "What. Did you. Do."

"Hey,"  the man replies, spreading his hands open. "Do you think I make decent money as a terrorist, Soldier? Do you think idealism pays well? Did you ever ask your bosses how they paid for what you needed to do what you do?"

"What did you call me?" his friend asks, his voice soft and scared.

"No!" the cub barks, baring her pointy little teeth at the man in the door. "Bad! Not make bad voice! Go 'way Thora bite!"

He scoffs at them. "You can ask them yourself when they get here."

Lucas's friend is wide-eyed and trembling.

"Bad make Jay cry!"  the cub snaps, fur bristling. The man- not his friend, harsh-voiced and tattooed, who understood what Lucas needed and made sure he had it when he couldn't say so- sneers a little and leaves. 

 Lucas squishes his friend's hand in his. He knows, before the bad dream- before just now, he had contacted his brother and his friends. They might come before this not-friend's people do. It might be okay.

Or it might be a fight.

Or they might come too late, after his friend's "bosses" leave with Lucas and his friend. Lucas's other arm tightens around his baby wolf. If anything happens to her, he... he doesn't know what he would do.

"Mine," the cub says softly, headbutting Lucas's friend and licking his face a couple of times.

"We should try to get you dressed, Luke," he murmurs.

The bird- brother, friend, myself, Lucas's brain supplies unhelpfully- perches on top of Lucas's head and shifts uneasily from foot to foot, so light that Lucas can barely tell that he's doing it, but says nothing.


End file.
